In Autumn 1227, while on campaign against the Tangut Kingdom, Mongol Emperor Chinggis
Khan died around 65 years of age. Kept secret from his own army, the truth of what killed
the Great Khan was known to only his inner circle, and perhaps not even they knew what
ended him. Yet, that did not stop writers across Asia from trying to explain his death,
and in this video, we will present the theories and rumours which surrounded the final days
of the World Conqueror.
First, we’ll note the most widely accepted version.Our closest source to his death is
likely the Secret History of the Mongols, a chronicle written for the Mongolian royal
family perhaps started in the year following Chinggis’ death. While campaigning against
the Tangut Kingdom, Chinggis fell from his horse in winter 1225/1226, injured so badly
that his commanders wanted to withdraw, but Chinggis refused them, and continued on the
campaign despite severe fever. He lead his forces for another year and a half, finally
in summer 1227 entering the Liupan mountains to seek respite, but continued to decline
and was unable to meet the Tangut King on his submission, by then too ill or too dead.
The Secret History does not provide a day for his death, simply stating that he ‘ascended
into Heaven.’ As said above, secrecy was maintained: if revealed he died before victory
was totally achieved, it might be feared that Heaven had removed its support, and encourage
renewed Tangut resistance. This need for secrecy is what kept the remainder of our sources
from fully understanding what occurred.
A fall from a horse can severely damage a human body, breaking bones which could have
difficulty healing due to the rigours of campaign and Chinggis’ advancing age, causing infection
and the slow death he seems to have suffered. Part of why this theory is so accepted is
because it’s a perfectly logical, though unheroic, explanation. Even today, there are
versions of this death in Mongol legend, such as his horse tripping on a marmot hole and
throwing him, to similar results. But, as said by Frank McLynn in his own biography
of Chinggis, “Human nature requires that the demise of a great man can never come about
for any normal or banal reason.” And from there, we get onto more.. Exciting suggestions.
Most of our thirteenth century accounts are vague: important sources like the Shengwu
qinzheng lu say nothing on the matter. The Persian writers Juvaini, Rashid al-Din and
the Ming era Yuan shi speak of illness aggravated by the climate while emphasizing Chinggis’
orders to keep the death a secret. Part of the army had suffered from Typhus or dysentery
earlier that year while besieging a Tangut city, which some modern authors connect this
to Chinggis’ death, but this is unlikely considering the timing and the Khan’s own
whereabouts over the campaign.
The farther we go across Asia in time and space over the century, the more our accounts
vary. For instance, the Franscian Friar John de Plano Carpini thought Chinggis was killed
by lightning. Marco Polo repeats that Chinggis died of infection from an Tangut arrow to
the knee. Chinggis was struck by an arrow in the leg, but in 1212 while on campaign
against the Jin Dynasty. Bar Hebraeus (1226-1285, check) suggested Malaria, but this is impossible
to prove and unlikely.
The persian writer Juzjani, a refugee from the Mongol conquest of Khwarezm living in
the Delhi Sultanate, wrote around 1260 a particularly insane account. In his version, Chinggis was
defeated by the Tangut king in battle multiple times, before the Tangut king allied with
Chinggis against the Jin. But Chinggis’ commanders worried about the Tangut King betraying
them, so they decided to kill him first. For this betrayal, the Tangut King sent a warning
to Chinggis: when he is killed, white blood will come out of him, and three days Chinggis
will die. Chinggis, rather understandably, thought this was nonsense and ordered the
Tangut King killed. But, lo and behold, when the executioner struck his neck, white blood
came forth, and when Chinggis saw this, he fell ill. Three days later his heart failed
and he went ‘straight to hell,’ though not before ordering the Tangut to be exterminated.
The thirteenth century authors had difficulty explaining his death. Most repeated baseless
rumours or just made things up: considering the secrecy around his death, they had little
choice. Accompanying these interpretations is discrepancies on who was present when Chinggis
died, if at this point he nominated Ogedei to be his successor, and the actual date,
being given on various days over late August 1227. That it occurred in later August, usually
just before the destruction of the Tangut, is one of the few things our sources do agree
upon. Based off the most detailed accounts, Paul Pelliot argued convincingly that Chinggis
died somewhere in the Liupan mountains, and few modern scholars dispute that. Even today,
there are local legends that Chinggis died in that area.
For more surviving Mongolian language sources, we have to jump to the 16 and 17th centuries,
after the fall of the Mongol Empire, the domination of Mongolia by the Oirats, the conversion
of the Mongols to Buddhism and the Manchu conquest. Around then a much more graphic
version of Chinggis’ death was spread. In these accounts, after the defeat of the Tangut,
Chinggis takes either the wife, or the daughter of the Tangut King as a concubine. This princess,
named Gurbelchin, was described as extraordinarily beautiful, but hated Chinggis for the destruction
of her people. She smuggled a knife into the tent, and killed or critically injured him
after he fell asleep, before flinging herself into the Yellow River. In the most famous
variation, which I will try to describe as professionally as possible, she hides the
knife in her sexual organ, and critically injures Chinggis Khan’s own sexual organ
during intercourse. This is terrible. Logistically, it’s unlikely, and sounds like the kind
of humiliating slander non-Chinggisid parties would spread. Indeed, many Mongols see this
story as lies created by the non-Chinggisid Oirats in the 17th century. While it would
explain why their 13th century ancestors were so secretive, there is no contemporary information
supporting a Gurbelchin, and judging by the illness described in other sources, it doesn’t
seem Chinggis would have been physically up to any… rumpy pumpy anyways.
Now, a quick mention of his burial and tomb. Frankly, I don’t think there is a huge amount
to discuss here. The general theme among the 13th and 14th century sources is that Chinggis’
body was brought back to Mongolia and buried in a hidden tomb generally taken to be on
Mount Burkhan Khaldun, the sacred mountain near Chinggis’ birthplace he used to hide
from his enemies and confer with Eternal Blue Heaven. We know quite a number of the other
Great Khans were buried there as well, though none of their tombs have ever been found.
There are a few remarks to make: firstly, the Mongols did not embalm their dead. A corpse
in the heat of late August/early September is not going to last the thousand kilometres
from the Liupanshan over the Gobi Desert to Northeastern Mongolia. There are persistent
rumours that Chinggis Khan was buried somewhere in the Ordos, where the ‘Mausoleum of Chinggis
Khan,’ stands today in Ejin-Horo Banner. The aforementioned 16th/17th century Mongol
sources contain a legend that the funeral carriage was bogged down in the mud before
a Muna Mountain in the Ordos. The carriage does make it to Mongolia, but the Erdeniin
Tobchi implies his body was not in the coffin.
This could refer to the coffin being empty, but note what we said earlier about the Mongols
not embalming their dead. Bat-Ochir Bold noted that the tribes left to guard the shrine of
Chinggis alleged they were guarding ashes, bone, and hair of the Khan, while his clothing
and effects were carried on to Burkhan Khaldun. Perhaps, in the face of the Khan’s rapidly
decomposing body in the heat of late 1227, he was cremated to facilitate transportation
back to his homeland, and thus there was no body to be removed from the coffin. It’s
unlikely he was buried in the Ordos, being as that tradition doesn’t appear in sources
until considerably after the fact; was only newly conquered territory in 1227, and not
really inhabited by Mongols until the 15th century. The mobile shrine of Chinggis, the
8 White Gers, is hard to confirm as even being in the Ordos before the 17th century, coming
there more so due to the shifting power centres of the Mongol princes of the period. Powerful
southwestern Mongols, needing to be invested, but unable to make the trip to the far north
of Burkhan Khaldun, needed something closer to legitimize themselves. The emerging Qing
Dynasty favoured Mongol princes in that region, perhaps they desired the shrine of Chinggis
Khan to be an area easier to control than northern Mongolia.
I don’t think there is a tomb of Chinggis Khan that will ever be found. It’s unlikely
he was buried with much beyond bows, clothing and horses, immediate things he would need
in the spirit world. Tombs with vast hauls of treasure like an Egyptian pharaoh are not
found in Mongolia. If Chinggis was cremated, this would only reinforce the difficulty in
finding a body. There are traditions around the journey back to Mongolia, that all bystanders
were killed, and various stories about how the grave was hidden, such as diverting a
river over top of it. But all of these are later additions, and I think are nothing but
stories. Often, details were added from the burials of later Khans and the Yuan Emperors,
which we know more about but were influenced by customs of the sedentary world.
On top of that, finding and digging up his grave would not be something the Mongols today
would idly watch. Burkhan Khaldun and the surrounding area are a sacred, protected site;
most expeditions to the area have been forced to be non-intrusive for that reason. Out of
respect for Mongolians today, I think the grave should stay the way it has for the last
8 centuries. The grave site was always intended to be hidden, and was immediately successful.
Like so much else about Chinggis, the tomb remains, and will stay, a secret. And if you’re
the sort of person to believe in vengeful spirits, I’m pretty sure the spirit of a
man called “the world conqueror,” is not one you want to anger via exhumation.